Dying to Live
by Vengeful Soldier
Summary: In a culture where death is as important to living as life, both the mortal shell and immortal soul are threatened when something challenges the Imperial Cult's creed. The soldiers of the 12th heavy siege regiment, fresh from the Emperor's wars don't know a lot about living, but they know a lot about making something stay dead.
1. Chapter 1

**Rest and the Unquiet Dead**

The Imperial Guard is regarded as the Hammer of the Imperium for a very good reason. It is a blunt instrument, weighed down with uncountable soldiers, munitorum workers, bureaucrats, administrators, trainers, procedures, camp followers, and the monumental task of defending humanity from any and all threats at all costs. It is a vast and far reaching organization, slow to move, slow to react, taking months or years to respond to a threat because of the difficulties of warp travel. However, like a hammer, once it is lifted and swung it gains momentum until nothing can stand in its way and anything that tries is smashed to pieces. Trod on by a trillion boots and ground to nothing by a billion treads. It is relentless in its duty, with near infinite reserves of manpower to call upon. Yes the Imperial Guard is the righteous hammer of the Imperium, but for more discreet matters there are more discreet organizations.

The Ordos of the Inquisition are what many could call the scalpel of the Imperium. Small, quick to move about, easy to hide, and viciously sharp when an incision needs to be made. The Inquisition in Imperial hierarchy is second only to the Emperor in terms of power and is beyond reproach from the other adeptus orders of the Imperium save for the fabled asartes and those within their own order. Yes, to compare the inquisition to a scalpel would be very fitting indeed.

They look for the sickly parts of the Imperium. The parts where rot and decay, the corruption of the ruinious powers or lust for power threatens the greater Imperium and they remove it with surgical efficiency. Quickly, quietly, and much of the time very discreetly. A simple day surgery is all that is required to keep the Imperium running smoothly and most of the time the people of the Imperium have no idea that the inquisition was ever there at all. One cut straight to the point and their work is done.

Many only know of the three main branches of the Inquisition and to them they are all that exist within the vast organization. The Ordo Hereticus, meant to stop those who would turn away from the Emperor and keep the tainted touch of the warp and other abominations away from the hearts and minds of the citizens of the Imperium. Those who lack faith are reeducated quickly. Those who proclaim the Emperor's falseness are made to repeal their statements through bloody tears, and those who would wish to consort with powers not of this realm are dealt with. Ruthlessly.

The next and possibly best known ordo of the inquisition is the Ordo xenos. One of the largest, or perhaps the largest branch of the Inquisition. They are tasked with finding, tracking down, isolating, keeping tabs on, and making sure that anything or anyone that could, might have, or has come into contact with xenos or xenos artifacts are scrutinized under a fine toothed comb and magnifying glass to ensure that the perfume they found isn't a deadly new pathogen. That the man who was for some bizarre reason saved from death by a xenos doesn't start trying to preach their benevolence, or worse still, begin trying to worship their race as a race of gods. (This generally bleeds into a jurisdictional nightmare between the Ordos of Hereticus and Xenos both, generally with a lot of accusations of heresy, blasphemy, name calling, and hurt feelings with the possibility of bolter fire and optional forced apology letters.)

The last and one of the least populous ordos for still being one of the most important is the Ordo Malleus. The very name sends a shiver down people's spines and for good reasons. Daemon hunters and warrior priests, these men and women are those who delve into the heretical, the depraved, and the inhuman machinations of this universe. Of all the ordos, the Inquisitors of the Malleus sect are the most brilliant, the most skilled, and the closest to towing the line between heroism and heretical.

What they see and where they tread is never spoken of, never reflected upon, and only ever recorded by a servitor unit that is destroyed immediately afterwards lest even the act of transcribing the dark deeds and places corrupt the machine into something other than what was intended. Something other than what was thought possible. Though one of the smaller of the major Ordos, Malleus demands as much, if not more respect than the others.

There are other sects of the ordos though that are responsible for more mundane things or even things that would seem odd or even a waste of time. For instance there once was a sect called the Ordo Kronos that was obsessed with the idea of time travel and using it for the gain of the Imperium and humanity as a whole. They were regarded as a joke, until one day every member suddenly just disappeared. A coordinated attack was suspected at first, but after time and consideration, fears that they had been successful began to surface and emerge. Then the ideas that things were changing and they had no way of knowing about it. That the laughing stock of the inquisition was changing history even as they discussed it. Then the conversations trailed off into ideas of the multiple time lines theory as opposed to the theory that the past was changeable instead of making a change being made, therefore creating a new timeline while the old continued undisturbed. Eventually as in all matters dealing with the warp and time travel, it was dropped, classified and all files of it sealed away.

There is another ordo who like to call themselves the Thorians. Obsessed with bringing the Emperor back to life they have been searching for millennia to find a way to restore the vigor and vitality into the Emperor's body to have him once more take up his sword and guide humanity onto a new path. The one that he had envisioned when he set out on his great crusade so long ago. They are small in number, but have a large amount of both financial and political backing, along with their near limitless powers as inquisitors of the most illustrious ordos.

There is another ordos though, that so few know of that they are thought to be a myth. So new in fact that they have only existed for a century or two at most. This ordo calls themselves the Ordo Secularum. This Ordo of the inquisition must guard its' dark secrets against those of the Thorians, because what they study is thought to be eternal life. Woe to any who thinks that though.

The standing belief of the Imperial cult is that all mortal things and beings must eventually expire save for the Emperor who is eternal. Life and death, death especially is one of the fundamental principles of the Imperial Creed. That is why what the Ordo Secularum studies is often called the plague of disbelief.

This is no mere crisis of faith that they consume themselves with in study, for that would merely be the job of the Hereticus Ordo, and not nearly so...unholy. They concern themselves with things which go against the very nature of the universe, against the very teachings of both the Imperial Creed and the adepts of Mars. They try to keep their studies under wraps and away from prying eyes. From both within and without of the ordos.

There are however, as in all things, instances when it is not possible to be discreet. When events transpire to necessitate force of the most overwhelming brutality, and what some would call cruelty. For when the plague of disbelief surfaces from the dark despair of some nameless soul within the Imperium and causes the very order of nature to be disrupted there is no other course but to wage war against it. For in the dark time of the 41st millennium, there is only war.

"So Sarge, what exactly are we doing down here again in the middle of the night?"

"We're here to restore order and quell any dissidence from the local populace."

"So, where's the dissidence?"

"I don't know, you tell me," answered sergeant Thornton to Lao.

They were in the bottom stacks of the hive, down at ground level where the highest amounts of unemployment, crime, and gangs were. There was always something going on down here required Imperial authority to do something. Gang wars getting out of hand, make work projects that tried to get people jobs, but always floundered, and at least every other month some kind of riot or minor rebellion. It usually didn't do much, stopping or being put to rights before even the middle hivers knew what was going on. It was almost a training mission for the local PDF of Bergrundy to go and stop a riot or put an end to a gang war. Usually things quieted down as soon as the first sighting of PDF coming down.

Years and years ago, the low hivers had decided that they weren't going to take to kindly to the seldom seen Imperial authority trying to tell them what to do and had decided to forcibly evict them from their homes. What had followed is now regarded as 'Action 13' and is still regarded as one of the bloodiest events in Bergrundy's history, the conflict ending after a bitter insurrection that resulted in nearly a third of all the stack inhabitants being killed. After that, no one opposed the PDF when they went down to the stacks. No one in the stacks liked them, but there were still a few left alive from the conflict that warned the younger generations of the risk of conflict with the upper hivers. So, simply put, when the PDF showed up, people behaved. Only question being, where were the people?

Thornton surveyed the area with professional interest and a little caution. There were still a few barrel fires burning, smouldering would have been a better word to use to describe it, but thin wisps of smoke still rose from the garbage fires. Fires meant to keep people warm who were no longer around. A few scraps of paper and discarded bags blew around, moved by the whisper of a breeze that managed to make its way down this far with its eery moan and chill, followed by the deep groaning and stuffy heat of the exhaust vents. The vents rattled and groaned, but they weren't blowing anything harmful, just hot air that smelled strongly of burnt metal. While it seemed like a major inconvenience, it actually kept conditions livable down in the stacks in winter by keeping them warm, while the rest of the hive was blanketed in a carpet of pristine white snow.

Vendors stands were abandoned. Illegal things mostly, but others selling what those higher in the hive had thrown away and had now been converted, patched, or make useable by the low stack inhabitants. A few old or barely working wrist chronometers. Patched and third hand clothing in various sizes, and other junky possessions littered the streets or stood unstolen on vendors wagons. If someone had the money, and very few did, they could even get some of the luxury items from the upper hive. Though is someone had that kind of money they wouldn't be in the low hive.

Some of the carts were overturned, some looked half-packed, and others still looked like they had been opened for the day and been left that way. Food, bottled water, and other supplies were strewn across the street in rotting bundles, that had lasted long enough to rot. It was amazing that the rats just hadn't eaten it. Hell, there wasn't really any rat droppings around that weren't hard and pebbly.

In any other place, this would have already been clear signs of trouble, but in the stacks it wasn't always the case. A rival gang could have easily pushed these people out of here and just smashed their stuff for the hell of it, then poured chemicals down drains and into basements just for the sake of doing it. The gangers didn't care for everything in an area, they took what they could carry or use and left the rest to rot or destroyed it. There was some casings lying around and dried blood, lots of it, but there were no bodies. That was odd, because some of the blood was still a little sticky and not quite congealed. No one should have moved the bodies this quick, unless they were worried about the PDF coming, but from the amount of blood lying around, it seemed that there would have been too many too move.

What was more worrying then that though, was the fact that the cheap liquor that the stackers made from cleaning supplies and whatever they could scrounge was still around and hadn't been drunk. A half full bottle here, a jar full there, and in one case, an entire shopping cart full of the stuff that had overturned and half the bottles were still intact and drinkable. The very smell of the booze as Thornton walked by was enough to make his eyes water and gag. No doubt he could use a bottle of that to clean out every drain in his apartment and still have enough left to go blind three times over.

It was almost like one of those fairy tales that his mother had told him when he was little. _Be good, or else the hollow men will come for you one day. They are men without souls, without the Emperor's light to guide them they wander aimlessly and they crave the life that they have lost. Their bodies lifeless,, their skin grey, their hearts no longer beating. They lament their fate with groans of loss and sorrow, pity for what they have lost. So consumed with their grief, they hate any creature with warm blood in its veins and a beating heart in its chest. Stay indoors when you hear them moan in their grief and their shuffling walk. For though they seem like lost souls in search of help, they are actually the ones searching. Eternally searching for those that still have what they have lost, and in their despair, grief quickly turns to rage. They hunt after the living, especially little boys who don't listen to their parents and take what isn't theirs._

Crazy old woman, still, it was a child's tale and Thornton was far too old to be scared by children's stories. Still, walking the stacks at night with nothing around but blood and empty streets turned that story into something that put him on edge for no reason. Jumping at shadows like a juvie that had just watched a horror vid.

Thornton stopped and picked up a small sack off of the ground crusted brown and found that it was full of crowns. Paper crowns, all small bills, but still a small fortune in the _middle _hive. Down here, this would be enough to live like a king for at least a decade if you managed it right. Why would someone just this kind of money just laying around? Even gangers wouldn't do that.

"Find something sarge?" asked Lao, leaning his auto rifle against his shoulder.

"I found a lot of something," said Thornton, opening the bag and showing Lao its contents. Lao's eyes went wide.

"Holy Throne that's a lot of money. Think that we could take some of that?"

"You know the rules about looting Corporal. We'll have to turn it into the commissariat or get the lash," said Thornton, not even bothering to hide how he took out a small handful of crown notes and put it into a pouch on his belt. "Make sure everyone gets a chance to guard it, I don't want to make one guy do all the work," said Thornton, smiling as he tossed it to Lao.

"You got it Sarge," said Lao, also taking out a fistful of notes and then passing the bag on to another member of the platoon. Each man taking out a handful and stuffing it into a pouch. Yes, looting was liable to get them whipped by the commissariat, but only if they got caught and no one was going to question a few small bills in someone's pocket. A good night of drinking and partying would be in order after this. It was always shitty down in the stacks and it really _smelled _this time.

It reminded Thornton of his dad's undertaker business. Like dead flesh and meat gone bad when they had had that power outage for that week and they hadn't been able to treat all the bodies in time.. Throne did it stink! Leave it to the stackers to live like animals, thought Thornton as he lazily walked down the street. Only an idiot would attack the PDF, because it they did all of the Emperor's hells would fall down on them. So, it was with only mild alarm when Thornton saw his first person.

"Ey, get back inside your hab, this is PDF business," shouted Thornton at the man, staggering around drunkenly. He didn't acknowledge Thornton, but began to shuffle over towards him, his face downturned.

"Hey, I'm not going to tell you again, get your stacker ass back inside your hab, or I'm gonna bring you in as a rebel. Get me tic?" said Thornton, a trace of anger in his words. The man just continued to stagger over to him. He was moving like a lifetime drunk and had the same shambling gait, but he didn't smell like a distillery.

"I've got 'em sarge," said Nikolai, walking up to the man, unlimbering his auto rifle and holding it in a threatening posture.

"Get the frak inside or I fill you full of holes tic," said Nikolai roughly jabbing the man with the barrel of his rifle.

The man staggered back a few steps, then stood stock still, hardly breathing, and it was then that Thornton noticed the odd greyish pallor to the man's skin. Like the 'clients' that his father dealt with. The man's head slowly looked up, and as his face was shown in the light of the electro globes, half of it was missing. A grisly mess that looked as if some animal had savaged his face, tearing away one cheek and most of his lips exposing the teeth and gums beneath. His eyes were glazed over, but still they flicked within their deep sockets. Even though that the wounds were still fresh, they did not bleed.

"What the frak?" breathed Nikolai, eyes widening and backing up. The man suddenly let out a terrible groan, almost a shriek and fell upon Nikolai who's cries of surprise soon turned to ones of pain and horror.

"Golden Throne!" cursed one of Thornton's troopers, fumbling with his rifle.

"Get it off of him!" shouted Thornton, as two other troopers went and grabbed the man missing half his face, but now with fresh blood staining its teeth and neck. It, why had he called it an it? It was a person, not a thing, thought Thornton with only a fraction of his attention. The rest focused on his trooper being savaged by some whacked out junkie.

Nikolai's face was a bloody mess, with large chunks missing from his face which now bled alarmingly and revealed teeth and gums beneath. An eye had been gouged out, still hanging on by a strand, but out of the socket. He was still alive, moaning and gurgling, his feet thrashing in pain, but alive. No longer able to scream as the man simply started to _eat _him.

"What the frak?! You frakking junkie tic freak!" shouted one of the troopers restraining the man missing half his face and hit him with the butt of his rifle, breaking his jaw and knocking him to the ground.

"Bastard," snarled the same trooper, directing a kick and taking the man in the head. The man just sat there, stunned and dazed, unmoving as the trooper began to brutalize him, not even breathing. Ribs cracked under the rage fuelled beating, cracking like dry branches, the mans chest caving in and causing him to wheeze in his infrequent breathing. The trooper was red in the face that was twisted in a snarl, veins standing out like power cords on his arms, gripping his rifle in a white knuckled grip and shouting obscenities at the tic. The tic just laid there and took it like some inebriate, almost as if too stupid to understand what was going on or to cry out in pain. Yet the eyes, the eyes just focused on the trooper like...like...he was food.

"Get away from him!" shouted Thornton, suddenly fearful. The platoon medicae streaked past him and made for the injured PDF trooper.

"Sarge, this tic's frakked all to hell on something good, but he's going to get something better," said the trooper, kicking the man again, a dull thumping sound as it impacted its chest. It, why had he called him an it again? Thornton felt a mounting sense of dread that turned his bowels to water and his throat turn dry.

_Their skin grey, their hearts no longer beating, and a hatred for all things with warm blood in their veins and beating hearts in their chests._

"Get the frak away from it," commanded Thornton, the colour leaving his face, his voice wavering, almost cracking like a juvie's.

"Why?" asked the trooper contemptuously, kicking the man in the chest again. This time though, the man seemed to come back to life. Grabbing onto the trooper's leg with a vice-like grip and sinking what remained of his teeth and mouth into the troopers leg.

"Ah, frak! Gah," grunted out the trooper as the man dragged him from his feet and began to tear bloody chunks out of his leg. Then the grunts turned to screams.

"Wait, don't shoot it!" cried Thornton as he saw the other trooper raise his rifle.

A loud concussive chattering filled the narrow street, the rounds turning the mans head to paste as that was the only available target to shoot at. His head popped like a grape between two fingers and sprayed the street with its remains. The groans of the two wounded men were the only things that Thornton heard as he looked around wildly. Looking closer at the man, Thornton realized that most of his hair had fallen out of what little he could see of the head and there was a lot of green scabbing across his body, almost veins of it really, marring what little remained to be marred of the man's face and cutting ugly lines across his body.

Lao was looking on in a mixture of sympathy, horror, and ghoulish interest at the two wounded and one dead man. Everyone else was just watching, staring.

"We have to go, we have to get out of here," said Thornton, head jerking side to side like a startled rabbit. The fear building in him like pressure in a blocked pipe.

"Ted, what's gotten into you?" asked Lao, looking at his friend a little worried..

"We've got to go, they're coming," said Thornton sounding increasingly desperate.

"Who's coming? Ted, that was a druggie, a frakking whacked out stack tic that couldn't feel pain, but still a druggie. Probably flying high on tomb. Just calm down alright, it's going to be fine." Lao's calm tone seemed to get through to Thornton and his breathing slowly returned to normal and his racing pulse gradually came back down to a normal rhythm.

"Yeah, yeah sorry about that Lao. Just lost my calm for a moment there, but I'm good now. I'm good." Thornton let out a short laugh. "Bastard really was stoned out huh?"

"Yeah, don't worry Sarge, everyone gets jitters, especially after seeing that kind of shit. I'm sure that everything's going to be alright. Nikolai and Oleg are in good hands, come on, let's get a med evac down here."

"Thanks Lao, I guess that I just-" a low groan emanated from one of the empty stack homes and a figure shuffled into view, grey as death, green scabbing and sunken features shrivelling back in on themselves, scraggly threads of what remained of its hair, and clothing torn, hanging off of it in grimy strips. Half of his torso was missing.

"The frak?" asked Lao, seeming more surprised than worried.

"No no no no no no no no, God Emperor take it back, I don't want it, here," ranted Thornton, throwing the paper crowns on the ground in front of him as more figures began to emerge, each voice adding to the murmur of groans growing around them.

"Sergeant, what do we do?" asked a trooper, swinging his rifle back and forth at the emerging bodies. All he got for a response was more mad ramblings from Thornton.

"Fire. OPEN FIRE! FIRE!" commanded Lao and soon the street was alive with the loud reports of auto rifles running through their ammo on full auto. One hundred round magazines rapidly emptying, shattering bottles of liquor, exploding doors and cheap plastic. Dust from the chipped ferracrete structures almost making a mist about them as they fired. The smell of cordite heavy in the air and the constant battering of nearly thirty rifles firing fully automatic deafening. The people who looked like corpses jerking and shuddering with every impact, falling down and flailing around as the barrage took off limbs, exploded torsos, and shredded organs. Still, those with enough muscles left crawled, hobbled, and dragged themselves towards the PDF troopers with single minded intensity. Those whose bodies were too badly mangled to function simply stared with insatiable hunger at the PDF'ers who had come to restore 'order.' Some however remained where they were, truly dead this time, heads destroyed, brains splattered, or otherwise disposed of. Many of those shambling beings fell, filling the streets and truly dead, at least five for every PDF trooper, but there was always more, always more to come.

They fell one by one, screams of pain, rage, and pure animal terror issuing from their throats as they were pulled down, rifle barrels still trailing smoke, and by assailants who had no right to be alive anymore. Then they were pulled apart and the figures began to eat. Some tried to run, but were caught as no matter where they went more and more of the grey figures with green scabs continued to arrive. Some tried to climb away, but fell into the waiting arms of the ghouls below, or climbed into the jaws of more waiting above.

Thornton went down last, crying and pleading to be left alone, holding up the handful of crowns like an offering. Thornton died, his flesh ripped from his body by hands turned grey and scabbed over green and consumed. He laid there, dead and still in the stacks that he hated so much as his last breath was torn from his body. Thornton died down there, his heart ceasing to beat before being ripped out and ripped apart. There was no one to mourn him for he lived alone and his friends lay dead around him. There was nothing left for or of him and in every sense of the word, Thornton was dead. Then he got back up and staggered away. Moaning.

Xxx

Amy moaned softly as she woke, blowing a lock of honey gold hair from her face and looked groggily over to what had disturbed her sleep and saw a figure standing over her just at the edge of her bed. For a half a moment she thought that it was Daniels, but as soon as a fraction more lucidity returned she realized that the figure was far too small to be Daniels.

"I had a bad dream. Can I sleep with you?" asked a childish voice, sounding a little unsure and tentative.

"What? Sure," said Amy sleepily, pulling back the covers and feeling the minor chill in the room sweep up her legs and torso waking her up slightly more than she would have liked. The _Heroic _seemed to have a constant problem with its climate controls, mostly involving heating making most everything cool to the point of being cold, but that was easily alleviated by having a nice and thick as well as fuzzy personal blanket. "Climb on in."

The young Athenian Penelope whom Amy had recently adopted crawled into bed quickly, and snuggled up to Amy, pulling the covers around herself, but leaving a generous amount for Amy as well. She pressed herself against Amy and Amy stroked the young girl's hair and gave her a kiss on the head before wrapping an arm around her and beginning the process of letting herself drift back to sleep. She would have to get up in a few hours, but she would try to be quiet because it was Saturday today by the ships calendar and Penelope didn't have school tomorrow, so Amy wanted to let her sleep in.

Penelope had been a child soldier on Athena II whom Amy had adopted with the help of two of her commissar colleagues, the old colonel Stanton, and a young Krieg noble who was serving in the 12th. Amy worried that perhaps she was coddling Penelope by letting her sleep in her bed with her since she was nearly 13, but it made Penelope happy and in turn made her happy.

In the two month voyage, Penelope had warmed considerably to Amy, treating her like an older sister or perhaps a guardian, but she didn't call her mom or anything like that and Amy was okay with that. She understood that in all likelihood she would never be able to take that place and although it hurt a little to know that, she understood it completely, having been an orphan herself like all commissars were. She wouldn't be able to take the place of her parents, but she could at least give her a good home and let her know that she was loved and cared for. She was only eight years older than Penelope, but it seemed like centuries to her, even if Penelope sometimes got a look in her eyes that was far beyond her years and made Amy a little worried. She worried about the simple _age _that she saw in the girl's eyes sometimes. How she seemed older than her years, and no doubt was because of the things that she had seen. Amy was almost afraid to know what she had been forced to do.

Like a worm, Penelope burrowed into the covers and right up against Amy, before getting comfortable and falling asleep just as quickly as she had come. Careful to not disturb her, Amy pulled the covers up around her, careful to leave Penelope's head above the covers even though it left Amy's shoulders and upper chest exposed to the chill of the room. Like a fog, the comfortable drowse of fatigue came back to Amy and she drifted slowly back to sleep. Her last thoughts were of how good it would be for Penelope to go and see another Imperial world, one untouched by war and get to be a kid again. Bergrundy would be a good place to lay over for a few months. Maybe she would like to take up dancing or singing? She was sure that she could find a studio for her and it'd be good for her to be around other girls her age too. Or if she really wanted to do a more contact sport, Penelope could learn kickboxing with her. It would be fun to spend more time together doing something like that.

Sure there were other kids on the ship, but a lot of them, if not all were the navy crews kids or Guardsmen's kids. Amy wasn't stupid and for as much as her naivete for the good of people sometimes lead others to believe her to be. At least not when it came to how kids acted or guardsmen felt about commissars. She knew that the other kids associated their parents dislike for commissars as something that they should emulate and find an outlet for on anything having to do with the commissariat. Which would mean that they would pick on Penelope mercilessly for being a commissars kid, if albeit an adopted one. Even as bad as that could be though it was still much preferable to them knowing that she had been a child soldier on a _rebelling _world. If they ever found that out, Amy actually feared for Penelope's safety.

Xxx

Sweat poured off of Erich in rivulets down into his eyes making them sting and his muscles felt as if they were on fire. He was stripped to the waist, his equipment destroyed on Athena II and the quartermasters had become old misers with what remained when they too were forced to abandon what remained in the rushed evacuation of the hive world. So much had been lost on that world, and not just equipment. Two thousand Kriegers of the 12th Heavy Siege had found their final resting place on Athena II, and half of those hadn't been chipped.

So much lost...and for nothing for in face of the oncoming tyranid invasion,they had abandoned Athena II. They had rained nuclear fire and the Emperor's wrath down from low orbit, turning Athena II into a smoking ball of ruin and leaving nothing for the approaching tyranids. To watch an entire world burn, there was no way to describe it or the sheer awe and terror of it.

It wasn't just Erich who suffered from the lack of uniform parts, many of his fellow Kriegers were having to go without their masks to save on the filtration units until the regiment could secure a steady supply of replacement parts and filters for both combat and everyday use.

Every exertion seemed like it would tear his newly healed body apart, indeed, the medicae staff would have been appalled to see the kind of stress that Erich was putting his newly healed body through. The scars across his chest from the lictor, and the knife and splinter shot wounds from the eldar were still pinkish in colour and healing. Even though that they were still tender and twinged from time to time, Erich refused to give his body even the slightest break. Pain was simply a way of the body letting you know that you were getting stronger, and to get stronger you had to overcome adversity.

The events from Athena II kept replaying themselves endlessly in Erich's mind. Most importantly, the events that had transpired beneath the main hive of Olympus. He had been beaten, broken in body, his spirit willing but unable. Laid low by a wretched xeno of the kind he had sworn to get vengeance against. Then at the moment when it had held his life in its hands it had spared him. Why? It made no sense. They were enemies in a war which no quarter was given and a war that Erich had sworn to deal a vicious blow against its kind. So why had it spared him? It had held his life in its hands, like a flame waiting to be snuffed out...and he had let go. Left him bleeding and broken away from help, but had let him live all the same. Spared by a xeno, like he was just a weakling babe with no power to shape or mould his own destiny. A being of such low worth as to not even be considered a threat or worry about what he could possibly do in the future. Like he was a mere insect railing against the heavens. The thought was infuriating and with it, Erich redoubled his efforts until every muscle was screaming for release and his arms began to tremble.

Then there was the one who had saved him. An Athenian medic who had helped him when she should have killed him and in return for her kindness was herself killed by Imperial authority. It didn't infuriate him that she had helped him, not anymore, but it did leave him wondering simply why and it occupied his thoughts much of the time that he was alone.

Erich blinked the sweat out of his eyes and watched it fall from his face to the floor six feet below. He was inverted, holding himself in a handstand on top of a metal bar in an impressive display of dexterity and strength. He would lower himself until his nose just barely touched the bar and then slowly extend himself back out to a full arms length to draw out the maximum amount of Exertion from the movement.

He had redoubled his family's martial training which he found he had begun to regress in skill since he had joined the Korps, but now with nothing to occupy him he was able to train day in and day out in his family's fighting arts. He had regained his prowess and even climbed higher than before.

Erich was not laden with heavy muscle and biceps the size of melons, but he was in perfect physical shape. His muscles were iron hard and his endurance was that of any world level athlete and he could shatter bones with a single blow. All those things could be found in other men in the guard, indeed, there were many warriors from across the Imperium whom could claim the same thing or even greater, but where Erich excelled was his mentality.

It was as if fighting was as second nature to him as breathing. He felt no anxiety over the prospect of pain or death, his heart rate did not increase, he did not break into a nervous sweat, and indeed if Erich was somewhat honest with himself, he enjoyed fighting to a certain degree. Sometimes all he felt before a fight or a battle was excitement and that was the only thing that made his heart beat faster. Perhaps saying he had no anxiety over death was a bit of an overstatement, but on a whole it didn't worry him so long as he could die fighting. Not broken and whimpering.

It was the ultimate test of his skill, of himself. He came from a family literally bred for battle, with traits and genes carefully molded and selected to make a human being as close to a living weapon as possible without making them psychopathic or sociopathic. Ever since he could walk Erich had undertaken intense physical and mental training, showing the greatest potential and learning capacity for the ways of war out of any of his siblings.

Indeed, his instructors had remarked that although at times when he had been younger and flinched back when hurt and wanted to stop, as he became older it seemed just to steel his resolve more. Seeming to become invigorated by the challenge. Once he tried to break a stack of permacrete blocks before he had been ready and shattered his hand. The very next day though, even with the cast still freshly applied he had resumed his training as if though it were no more than a scrape, though abstaining from using the hand as much possible.

Erich was now seventeen years old and ready to carry on his family's legacy as the highest pedigree of warrior and soldier. To him, the thought of letting that legacy become tarnished or the mantle slip was a worse fate than a dishonourable death.

With his muscles burning like they were on fire and feeling like knives were lancing through them, Erich dismounted and landed smartly on his feet, wishing to pant but instead controlling his breathing so that his breath came in a calm and steady rhythm instead. In and out. In and out. Pulling it all the way to his diaphragm and releasing it again in his steady breaths. Once his breathing was back to normal, Erich finished off with some simple martial movements as a wind down exercise.

There were two different styles of the Von Shredier family martial arts. The first taught was the non-lethal version. This by no means meant that it wasn't dangerous as the blows were still sent full force and could still easily cause death. It was merely meant that the user didn't aim for areas of the body that would cause mortal injuries from just one blow or break bones purposely. You didn't gouge out eyes. Didn't try to crush the trachea or windpipe. You didn't aim to break the knee or neck or even a bone in the arm and especially did not try to break the xiphoid process when hitting the solar plexus. You didn't aim for the temple or any other number of dangerous areas.

The other that was taught though, it trained you to aim for all of those areas with maximum precision. A kick to the head meant to break the neck, a punch to the jaw meant to sever the spinal cord from the head by torquing the head savagely to the side. Not to say that it worked every time and indeed it didn't because many of the moves required extreme precision, even a degree of luck, but even if one of those blows landed it could easily incapacitate whomever he was fighting. No thing alive could survive Erich's training.

Xxx

"What's this?" asked Stanton as Chief Watchmaster Jaeger put down a plain manilla folder onto his desk.

"It's the list compiled by the section leaders, junior officers, and myself for individuals who would benefit from a specialized training course." Stanton let out an exasperated sigh like he was going to have the same conversation that he'd been having for the last three months, just in a different way for in a way he really had been.

"I thought that there wasn't enough room for training on this tub? I mean look around, my office is a utility closest that they cleaned out for me to use. The only thing that's still open is the few weight rooms around the ship and even those are only open because the Captain demanded it and the waiting times for those rooms is atrocious. We have a few slots open for the indoor weapons range and we do as much as we can, but I can only beg, cajole, and wheedle out so many sessions from the other commanders and ship officers. I'm sorry Jaeger, but there's simply no way that we can train these men how you like right now," said Stanton with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"It's not that kind of training sir." Stanton raised a bushy grey eyebrow questioningly.

"What kind of training could it be then Chief?"

"The names on this list have shown signs of deviating from what is considered the ideal conditions for a soldier of Krieg. It has been decided that they need type III training to get back towards the proper state. I would also like them to be kept isolated from the rest of the regiment and any outside contact for the duration of the training sir."

"Mental conditioning Chief?" asked Stanton as he began to flip through the folder.

"Yes sir, these troopers have displayed behaviours that are damaging to the Death Korps operating capabilities and unit cohesion. The reason that Death Korps soldiers are so prized and well reputed throughout the Imperium is because of not only the training and conditioning of the Korps soldiers, but the upkeep and constant maintenance of our assets."

"I've had no brawls. No gambling. No drug use. No troopers go AWOL. I haven't had to discipline any since the business on that transport-by the way wasn't there supposed to be a hearing or some such other bureaucratic nonsense like that?"

"It is not my place to...criticize certain trades of the Imperium sir," said Jaeger hesitantly, as if he knew he was saying something taboo but had to say it anyway. "But the munitorum isn't the most...prompt of agencies at the best of times and with our unexpected departure and destination from Athena II with the difficulties of warp travel and it being of such a low priority," trailed off Jaeger.

"It might never come to anything or we might have a trial tomorrow."

"Exactly sir."

"I do love bureaucracy, but as I was saying I practically have a regiment of saints with only a few odd exceptions who perform well above the physical and practical standards the guard imposes, so why to we need to recondition them?"

"Permission to speak freely sir?"

"Granted."

"They may be up to Guard standards, but not to Korps standards. These men are no longer that. We have spent considerable time, money, and resources to turn these men into more than soldiers. We have turned them into weapons of the Imperium. Your average Krieg soldier will take his own life as readily as an enemy's at any time when ordered to. They will operate without food, sleep, warmth, water, and even basic necessities until death or are literally physically unable to continue standing. Like any other piece of hardware from a Leman Russ Main Battle Tank to a common las rifle though they are tools. They are owned, used, and operated like any other piece of hardware or equipment in the Guard's arsenal. They will never question, never falter, and will never stop until they are victorious or dead. But like any other piece of equipment they need constant maintenance to ensure that they stay this way and do not begin to regress to a state less than ideal for a Korps soldier. We continue such a lengthy and time consuming training regimen so that they are not only too tired to question or think about anything other than what we wish for them to. Which is also why we try to isolate them from social interaction as much as possible sir."

"You try and make it sound like these men don't have any other life or thoughts outside of the Korps."

"They're not supposed to sir," answered Jaeger promptly. "They freely gave their lives over to the Death Korps and only once they atone in death are they released from that vow."

"Well, I see then. I suppose then that this folder must contain some rather damning evidence then I suppose?"

"It does indeed sir."

"Alright, let's see what we have here. Owning and operating a lighter. Talking about his mother. In possession of pornographic contraband, HAH! I like this one I dare say," announced Stanton gleefully.

"Colonel, with respect sir, this is something that I would like you to take with the utmost seriousness," said Jaeger respectfully, but with a kind of strained tone in his voice like he had just quickly repressed a boiling anger, but hadn't had time to remove all traces of it from his voice.

"Sorry, Chief," said Stanton a little bashfully.

"You don't need to apologize to me sir. I am your subordinate and you may treat me as you wish. It is my duty though to inform you of the regulations and standards that the Korps wishes you to keep up and enforce and to which you promised to do upon receiving a commission from the Deaht Korps. If you ever find that I am rude or disrespectful in my presentation of these standards you may discipline me as you wish sir. I don't wish to sound critical sir and if I am fully prepared to handled the consequences of my opinion sir, but the 12th Heavy Siege Regiment is slowly becoming a regular guard regiment instead of a Krieg regiment."

"Don't be so serious all the time Jaeger. You're my Chief Watchmaster. My right hand. I rely on you far more than you think and you're damned good at your job and I expect you to tell me when I'm not up to snuff on my job. From one veteran to another, a lot of officers don't know the end of a las rifle from their own sphincter. I've always liked noncoms for the fact that they usually know their job far better than their superior. My first platoon sergeant practically had to babysit me for my first few months so that I didn't screw up too badly. I expect you to guide me as much as you can."

"I doubt that I will need to babysit you sir, but I will do my duty as you have requested."

"I hope you don't either," said Stanton with a short guffaw. "That was bloody well near seventy years ago. If I still need babysat at this point then that would just be embarrassing."

"Indeed it would sir, but back to the task at hand I do believe that there is something in there that I think even you will recognize as a serious breach of regimental protocol."

"Hm, very well. Doo do doo, possession of candy...non issue shampoo...oh. Oh my," said Stanton for once sounding startled. "That is something that we need to take care of immediately."

"I'm glad that you agree sir."

"Do we have a protocol for this or do we get Osei or miss Walker to handle this?"

"Forgive my promptness sir, but I have already taken the liberty of taking care of this matter."

"And this trooper?"

"Will be brought here shortly sir, though I would like you to not refer to this individual as a trooper because the title does not apply."

"How would you like to proceed with this chief?"

"I will leave that to your discretion sir."

xxx

Erich sat at a long mess table surrounded by other members of the assault company, sucking the food paste from the Krieg ration tubes through his mask along with the rest of those present. They were trying to stretch out the food supplies on board the ship and so they were eating their field rations as much as possible. With nearly double the amount of people on the ship that there normally was it had more than halved their available travelling distance and the Heroic had been short on supplies to begin with. Or so the ship officers had claimed.

The mess hall was loud with voices and people engaged in daily small talk, scrapes of cutlery on plates and chairs sliding across metal floors as people finished their meals or came to eat. The mess hall could hold about five hundred at a time and was just one of many on the ship with strict schedules for meals. Banners hung on the walls as well as paintings, a large one of the Emperor as to be expected, but also romanticized pictures of atmospheric dogfights and ridiculously close space combat between ships and others merely pleasing to look at. Small editorials on previous pilots hung underneath some of the photos of the deceased and histories of the differing squadrons on board of which there were three. Renamed many times and having gone through many machines and men.

Steam wafted from the serving counter, carrying with it much more enticing smells and promises of much more satisfying food. It seemed that there was no shortage of food when it came to giving the navy personnel their meals, their plates piled high with differing foods, much of it natural, even giving them things like fresh biscuits, cookies, even slices of cake occasionally. Just the thought of rich chocolate, creamy topping, and savoury warm biscuits made Erich's mouth water.

Erich didn't mind eating food out of a ration tube, but his one vice was that he had was that he liked his sweets and it irritated him a surprising amount when he wasn't allowed any of the desserts on the serving counter. Cake, cookies, pie, chocolate, jello, cupcakes, muffins, candy, and anything that was sweet and sugary always invariably found its way onto Erich's list whenever he went to the canteen to buy necessities like: boot polish, tooth paste, shaving cream, sewing thread, shampoo, and soap. So staring longingly at the treats and sucking idly at the ration tube, Erich didn't notice the two fully armoured grenadiers approach from behind.

A sense that Erich had developed in the long months of fighting on Athena II suddenly went into overdrive, making adrenaline surge through his body and his senses become hyper aware, his fight or flight response kicking into overdrive and the first option was the obvious choice. Tensing, Erich prepared to lash back at whatever or whoever was behind him, when he heard a violent struggle suddenly break out. Looking back he soon saw the cause of it.

Two grenadiers, adorned in their carapace body armour had each grabbed an arm of an assault company trooper and had pulled him roughly from his spot at the table, knocking his chair over and thrashing about madly. Kicking his legs and trying to get a firm stance on the ground.

He was a shorter man, maybe five foot eight, possibly a little shorter and slight of build, but he fought ferociously against the two who had grabbed him. Possibly not even knowing who they were, just reacting on instinct.

The struggle spilled into the aisle between two rows of tables and people around the cafeteria stopped to watch the drama unfold. Even for all the ferocity of the assault company soldier, he was no match for the two grenadiers, men who already considered themselves dead in the Emperor's service and had gone through the body and soul crushing training to become grenadiers and wear the coveted death heads pins. Their skull painted masks looking dispassionately down at the struggling form beneath them.

Erich watched as one pinned the Krieg soldier down holding his arms and the other pulled back his mask, then pressed his shock gauntlet down onto the troopers bare skin, causing the Krieger to spasm for a moment before coming still. The subtle rise and fall of his chest the only indication that he was still alive. If anyone else, even ship security had tried to do that to a Krieger, especially one from the 12th Erich would not have watched it happen idly three seats from him, but it was Krieg grenadiers whom had done it. Grenadiers from the 12th which meant that they were acting on orders and that meant they had every right to do what they did and that he had no right to become involved.

Erich watched as they dragged the inert trooper out of the mess hall by his arms, mask half off and legs occasionally bouncing off of chairs in the way. Faster than one would expect everyone returned to their meals, the idle chitchat now about what the trooper had down and about what sort of punishment would be meted out. Some even went so far as to claim that it was too bad that they hadn't done a summary execution, but agreed that it would have spoiled the meal, though it would have made for an interesting dinner show.

Xxx

Stanton watched the young Krieger's head loll on slumped shoulders in front of his desk, and then slowly come to, head slowly coming up. Eyes blinking blearily a few times and then muscles tensing for a moment as memories of what had recently transpired came back. Then the customary shock to see the highest ranking officer in the regiment sitting behind a somewhat impressive mahogany desk that barely managed to fit into the room.

"Sir," said the startled trooper, trying to rise and salute but stopping short as the restraints held fast and kept the Kreiger in place and in the chair. Dark grey eyes looked around uncertainly, with black hair that was too long to be regulation fell into the Krieger's eyes, no doubt having been unable to secure the services of a good barber or even get the time for a watchmaster to do it in the past couple of months.

"Sir, this trooper is confused," stated the young Krieger in the soft voice of what could have been assumed to be prepubescence.

"As am I," said Stanton not at all happy to be dealing with this now. He never liked dealing with this kind of thing. "Would you like to tell me your name? Just the short form if you would please."

"Corporal HS-1972 sir."

"Your real name," said Stanton.

"This trooper's real name?" asked the Korpsman sounding confused. "Before training, this trooper was called Wilhelm Kluge sir."

Jaeger whom to this moment had been silent suddenly lashed out in a string of native Krieg words said in a low growl that seemed to make the young trooper physically shrink inwards and lower his head in shame.

"We know that that isn't true, so please just tell the truth. Nothing bad is going to happen to you and no one is going to hurt you. I am truly sorry about how you were brought here, but we already know so please, let's be honest here," said Stanton in a soothing, fatherly voice.

"My real name sir?" asked the trooper finally looking into Stanton's eyes.

"Yes dear, go ahead."

"My real name...is Ursula Wolff sir," said the Young Krieger, her soft voice and softer features becoming much more obvious.

"You do understand why you are here don't you?"

"Yes sir, I am here to fight in the Death Korps of Krieg and for the God Emperor of mankind."

A harsh rebuke in native Krieg erupted from Jaeger with the same result as before, Stanton surprised at the simple rage that the normally unflappable soldier was displaying towards the young woman. Whatever he was saying was clearly very unkind, and very much in no way positive.

"Ich bin wurden!" suddenly lashed back the young woman at the watchmaster, her face set into a snarl and grey eyes alight with fire. "Ich bin ein soldat! Ich verdiente diese!" Jaeger hit the young woman with a backhand that split her lip.

"Nur schade verdient."

The young Krieger lowered her head, appearing as though she may cry, but when she raised her head again, her eyes were dry and her face was as if it was carved from stone. Giving away nothing.

"I would appreciate it if the rest of this conversation was conducted in Low Gothic Watchmaster," said Stanton, still surprised by the first emotional outburst he had ever seen from the regimental watchmaster in the year that he had known him.

"Yes sir. I must apologize for my behaviour. I failed to conduct myself in a manner befitting my rank and station. I let my anger at this breach of Korps protocol override my professionalism and am willing to suffer any and all disciplinary action merited from it sir."

"That won't be necessary Jaeger."

"Yes sir."

"Now Miss Wolff, you do understand the trouble you're in don't you?"

"Yes sir, but this troop-I am not in the kind of trouble you think I'm in. I'm not going to be punished. Per say."

"Jaeger, would you be a good chap and explain this to me?"

"The inspection by the medicae confirmed that she is a class 4 and as a result will be immediately shipped back to Krieg as soon as transport can be acquired."

"Class four? I daresay, what system does that numeric represent?"

"It means that I'm fertile," answered Ursula. "Very fertile and ripe for breeding," she said, almost spitting the words out, like they were more painful than her split lip.

"She will be returned to Krieg and provide future generations of Korpsman for the Emperor's armies and serve him on the home front to the best of her abilities. It is the honour of a daughter of Krieg to matry their sons in the name of the Emperor and continue providing sons for his service."

"I"LL BE BRED LIKE A BITCH!" shouted Ursula, teeth set in a snarl, hands in tight fists and chains restraining her taut. "Every ten months they'll get me pregnant and take away my kids or have other women raise them. They'll keep me locked away in a hospital while doctors poke and prod me like an animal to make sure that I carry my child to term and that it's healthy. Then, once They finally burn out my womb and I can't have anymore kids, no matter what kind of surgeries or drugs they give me, I'll get a hard labour job until I get too old to work anymore. I don't want that life, and I won't go back. I won't! I'd rather die with a bullet in my skull that a baby in my stomach."

"You will go back, and in time you will tell us who helped keep you hidden in the regiment fraulein Wolff. Colonel, do I have permission to make arrangements regarding miss Wolff's travel accommodations?"

"Yes, you may begin making preparation," said Stanton, still mildly horrified by what he had just heard.

"Thank you sir," said Jaeger. He saluted smartly, clicked his heels, and as soon as Stanton returned the salute, pivoted sharply and left the room, closing the door behind him.

Stanton heard muffled choking sounds like someone having trouble breathing, and felt a wave of both surprise and empathy when he saw the young Krieger in the chair quietly sobbing, but in an odd way as if she didn't quite know how or was fighting it. Her eyes shut tight and body shaking with every sob that wracked her frame.

"I won't go back," said Ursula, barely more than a wavering whisper. "I won't."

Knowing that it was more than likely improper to do, but finding he didn't quite care, Stanton went around his desk and gave the young Krieger a comforting hug. She didn't return it or even seem to acknowledge it, as if accepting compassion was akin to weakness, but her sobs did lessen.

"I won't go back," she said through gritted teeth.

"Sometimes we're forced to do things that we don't want to and have no control over my dear, even myself," said Stanton gently stroking the back of her head in a calming gesture. "We don't always get to choose to pick the path we walk, but life isn't always fair."

"I won't go back."

"I know you don't want to, but I'm afraid that my hands are tied my dear."

"No sir, forgive me, but you don't understand." There was an odd tone to her voice, no longer hurt, or even remotely vulnerable, but the dispassionate voice of a Krieg trained killer.

Stanton let go of his embrace and stared into the Kriegers eyes and found them to be as hard and cold as iron, in sharp contrast to the thin streaks of tears down her cheeks.

"I was trained to kill by the best instructors in the Imperium and to see death as my release from mortal burdens. I have gone through training that has broken lesser people and not only passed it, but excelled at it. If anyone tries to send me back I will kill them or failing that I will kill myself. It's very easy to kill someone sir and very easy to die if you know how. I _won't _go back."

Stanton had doubts about many things in his long life, but what he didn't have doubts about was the fact that his young woman was fully prepared to die rather than return to Krieg. But more than that, she was prepared to kill.

AN: I changed my mind a half-dozen times whether to put Ursula in the story or not, but eventually I decided that it would be a good insight into the social structure of Krieg and often despotic nature of their rules and laws. In total there should be at least four or five other Korpsmen as characters in this story other than Ursula and they'll have different experiences when they go to Bergrundy.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2 Rest and Relaxation**

"FRONT AND CENTRE YOU WORTHLESS MAGGOTS!"

Erich fell in line quickly with the rest of the guardsmen and naval personnel going away on leave. The _Heroic _was currently docked at a refitting station in Bergrundy's orbit and while it was being refitted and the munitorum decided where to send the displaced regiments aboard the guardsmen were being given a rare opportunity to take some much needed rest. They were in the docking bay of the _Heroic_ and had a picturesque view of the planet below from the viewing windows running the sides of the ship. Everything was a gunmetal grey in colour with a few Imperial motifs here and there. Everyone was standing together in drill formation, or as close as they could get with the differing drill systems from a dozen different systems, but they had formed into a rough rectangle that must have been passable because the sergeant major was no longer yelling at them.

Erich was dressed in his suit that he had been wearing when he first joined the Korps, but found that it was now too tight and was careful with his movements, not wanting to rip his clothing. He could have worn his dress uniform but he didn't really want to wear it on this occasion and didn't want to wear his PT consisting of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt like the handful of other Kriegers had chosen to do. It seemed that he wasn't the only one who wanted to go down to Bergrundy's surface.

Erich had more in mind than simple leisure though. He had learned that one of the many companies that his family owned was based on Bergrundy and he wanted to inspect it and see how it was doing. Give himself a little business experience and make sure that they weren't embezzling money as was often the case when the far flung enterprises of the von Shreider family weren't properly managed.

"STAND UP STAIGHT YOU POX RIDDLED FAIRIES! EYES TO THE FRONT! STOP MOVING YOU ANTSY BITCHES!"

Erich wondered why all high ranking NCO's felt the need to scream every order they ever gave. Erich had gotten the promotion to sergeant after the events on Athena II and only ever yelled spoke loudly enough to be heard. He didn't feel the need to scream at everyone and everything. Or to give himself a heart attack.

"ALL YOU GLORY BOY REJECTS WILL NOW GIVE YOUR FULL ATTENTION TO LIEUTENANT MORI FROM THE HUMAN RESOURCES DIVISION. SHE WILL WALK YOU DUMB SHITS THROUGH THE PROCEDURES INVOLVED IN TAKING YOUR LEAVE. YOU WILL LISTEN! YOU WILL APPRECIATE HER TRYING TO COMMUNICATE WITH YOU DUMB APES, AND YOU WILL ENJOY YOUR LEAVE TO THE FULLEST EXTENT AND ENJOY YOURSELVES! LIEUTENANT MORI IS PART OF A NEW PROGRAM TO CREATE A KINDER AND MORE ACCEPTING ATMOSPHERE FOR YOU WORTHLESS SCUM. YOU WILL NOT BE A WALKING EMBARASSMENT TO HIS IMPERIAL MAJESTY'S SERVICE WHILE ON LEAVE OR SO HELP ME EMPEROR I WILL BREAK OFF YOUR SCRAWNY NECKS AND SHIT DOWN THE HOLE. YOU GET ME MAGGOTS?"

"Yes ser-"

"DON'T TALK IN RANKS! NOW, GIVE YOUR FULL ATTENTION TO THE MA'AM!" roared the sergeant major.

"Hello everyone, stand at ease. Stand easy. My name is Lieutenant Mori and I'm here to explain a few things before you go on leave. I'll start with the briefing for the guardsmen present."

"Now the first thing to know is what to do if you get lost. Now, if you happen to get lost, you can head to any law enforcement station and they will get you in contact with the Guard personnel department. If at any time you wish to end your leave early, you may return to the spaceport and take the space elevator back up to the Poltava station. Remember to hang onto your tickets, because if you lose it, it'll really be an inconvenience to have to wait in security overnight while we get things sorted out. You are all expected to obey the local laws on the planet and to observe their customs. If you find at any time that your customs or practices are being repressed or you feel you are not being treated fairly, you are free to return to your regiment at any time. You are representing the Imperial Guard as a whole here and we are guests here which means that you have to play by their rules so to speak. If however, you feel you are being discriminated against because you are a member of the Imperial Guard you can get in contact with the Guard Personnel department and we will handle it promptly. So remember the difference. If it's just against you, turn the other cheek. If it's against the Imperial Guard it's dissidence and we'll handle it accordingly. But don't make a false claim or else it's twenty lashes by the commissariat. Any questions?"

Erich waited patiently while Lieutenant Mori answered the few questions raised by the guardsmen is her almost forcefully happy voice. No, personal weapons were only allowed by officers. No, not even religious items were allowed if they were considered weapons. No, you couldn't refuse a security check on cultural or religious ground. No, you could not challenge people to a duel if they offended your honour. You were only allowed twenty kilos in your bag when you returned, besides your carry on unless you made prior arrangements. The most humorous questions were asked by the guardsmen from from feudal and feral worlds.

"Alright everyone that's all you have to let me bore you. Now remember to have a good time and be a positive example for the Emperor's service. I'll turn you back to the sergeant major now."

"ATTEN-SHUN! DIS-MISSED! NOW GET YOUR BITCH ASSES MOVING THROUGH THE DOOR! MOVE IT, MOVE, MOVE!" howled the sergeant-major, practically frothing at the mouth.

The space elevator would take about ten minutes to reach the planet below and Erich was extremely thankful that the air recycler was working or else he was worried that the smell would overwhelm him.

Erich was already squinting like he was near-sighted because he didn't own a pair of sunglasses and wasn't allowed to bring Korps equipment on leave which left him bereft of his mask. Which already made him feel a little insecure, the widows showing their rapid descent into the planet below and the vast empty void around him turning the otherwise boring ride into his own personal hell. Whoever had decided that the floor needed armourglass panes in it so the occupants could see themselves falling deserved to be shot and burn in hell for all eternity, but that was just Erich's personal opinion. Though he could just be in a bad mood because of the overweight feral world guardsman in a rough fur hide coat eating mutton right beside him. Making little bits of mutton and drool fall onto him, and his clothes. His good clothes. Then the fact that the coat smelled like it had just been freshly killed and the guardsman had no idea what personal hygiene was. Or common decency. Or respect for the fellow passengers. Or the fact that he took up two seats. Or that he was getting on Erich's last nerve and the stress of the agoraphobic nightmare made him want to snap the fat mans neck.

Erich suddenly realized that he hated public transportation and everything involved with it and decided that if at all possible he would never ride it again. Ever.

A little bump on the way down caused the man to press the mutton wet with sauce to Erich's suit, and smear it with grease and whatever passed for seasoning on his food. Erich did the typical Krieg response when confronted with an unfavourable social situation. Sighed heavily through his nose, sat glumly, and wished terrible horrors upon the fat man.

"Hello, what regiment are you from?"

Erich looked to his other side and saw a well muscled young adult with abnormally pale skin, dirty blonde hair, and faded grey eyes. He was wearing the PT training clothes of a Krieg regiment, likely the only civilian looking clothes he owned.

"I am from the 12th Krieg heavy siege regiment. Assault company."

"I am from the 12th as well. Though I am from the demolition company. It is a pleasure to meet you. I heard that we aren't supposed to use designations on Bergrundy to avoid cultural confusion. Did you hear the same?"

"Yes, I was informed of that particular order. They don't want any culture clash."

"My name is Peter, what is your name?"

"My name is Erich."

"It is nice to meet you Erich. Who is that man sitting beside you?"

"I am afraid that I do not know him."

"He smells very badly, wouldn't you agree?"

Erich actually found himself lost for words and his mouth opened a little in shock. The feral world guardsman stopped chewing for a second and glared at the young demolition trooper, then resumed eating.

"What do you plan on doing on your leave time?" asked Erich trying to change the subject.

"Oh, a few different things. This and that, nothing too important," said Peter avoiding the question. Erich really didn't care too terribly much, but he couldn't ignore him without being rude and he seemed pleasant enough. A few moments passed and Peter seemed to think the conversation done and turned away. Erich was about to make more small talk when something odd happened.

A metallic click and the smell of lighter fluid suddenly assaulted Erich's senses and he looked over to see Peter cupping a lighter and playing with the flame, squinting his eyes because of the light, but doing it nonetheless.

"I do believe that we are not allowed combustibles onboard the space elevator," said Erich a little shocked.

"Hmm? My apologies," said Peter snapping the lighter closed with a flick of his wrist and making it disappear so quickly as to make Erich question whether he had seen it at all. Though he did wonder how Peter got it through security.

"I thought they confiscated lighters before we boarded and other paraphernalia."

"They said I could keep it," said Peter smiling. Erich looked over at a faded sign with a red circle and a line over several items that could produce flame or even a spark. Then looked back at Peter.

"They said you could keep it?" asked Erich in a monotone voice.

"Yes. Could you do me a favour?"

"I could acquiesce," said Erich.

"Look down please."

Erich looked down, right through the glass floor and saw clouds smashing against the floor, rushing past the elevator and then the ground below and it felt like he was going to fall outside of the elevator and keep falling forever. It seemed the ground below was yo-yoing back and forth and Erich had to lean back and close his eyes to counteract the vertigo. When he opened his eyes again, he looked over and saw Peter smiling at him again.

"Feels like you're falling off the edge of the world doesn't it?"

He had done it on purpose, was the thought that went through Erich's mind. He knew what that would cause and had done it anyways. This man was more than a little odd and it seemed like a very bad idea to keep questioning him about his lighter and him having it.

"Did you know your skin receives second degree burn injuries at 55 degrees Celsius? And that first degree burns occur at only 48 degrees Celsius?"

"No I did not actually," said Erich perturbed.

"Oh. Well now you do."

Never talk with Peter again, mentally coached Erich to himself as they began slowing down and eventually the space elevator locked into place at the space port.

"Would you like to form a group to explore Kisograd?" asked Peter.

"Where are you going?"

"I was thinking maybe the old quarter."

"I'm not going there," said Erich gruffly and quickly picked up his kitbag and hurried to the exit.

Xxx

Gunther looked around the spaceport and wondered where to go. He really hadn't had a plan coming down to Bergrundy's surface other than he wanted to see the planet. Now he didn't know where to go, not to mention he didn't know how much accommodations would cost. He sat on a bench by a fountain and just watched people come and go for awhile. It was so much different than Krieg.

The spaceport was large and brightly lit, with white tiled floors that had different coloured ones put in place to make pictures on the ground. The ceiling was high and vaulted, but different and a little more rounded than the gothic style that he was so used to. There were plenty of stores around, many with attractive entrances and goods inside, using a wide array of colours. Imperial clergymen walked about with Sororitas from some sect that Gunther was not familiar with handing out leaflets and tithe vouchers to those that seemed down on their luck, and asking for donations from those whom seemed more fortunate.

Families walked to and fro, unmasked, unsuited, smiling, laughing, one even crying. He saw another couple on a bench kissing and Gunther looked away, a little red in the face. This world allowed open displays of affection which was startling for Gunther. On Krieg, that was something you did in the privacy of your own home, if at all. Open displays such as that could land you a fine on Krieg.

What surprised him the most though, was all of the places that one could buy food. And as much as you wanted to as well. There were no restrictions, no nutritional guides, and no limit. If one wanted they could spend their entire wages on perogies and sausage. Whatever perogies were.

A few news stories scrolled by on the pict viewers showing an epidemic of teenagers skipping school to the point that the local militia officers were actively searching for them, picking them up and dropping them off at school. It seemed that they got a small bonus for every student that they managed to get back to class. There was also a small story about the fifteenth level of the hive now also being cordoned off because of an outbreak of some form of influenza. The newscaster told people not to panic and to be sure to get their annual flu shots and that the PDF would be assisting in helping those afflicted by the outbreak.

Gunther stretched his back and felt it twinge, still a little stiff and sore from where the lictor had hit him, nearly breaking his back and killing him. It was like he had woken up that day from a dream afterwards. He had been scared of course being on top of that ladder. Scared and in pain, but he had believed entirely in his training and his ability to fight whatever had murdered several of his comrades. He had lost his Laute dame when he had fallen into the reservoir, but he had still kept his grenades and used them to their fullest efficiency. He had believed that he had killed it, only for another to skewer him through the leg and pull him down. Gunther had truly believed that he was going to die that day. And it had terrified him.

An assault company trooper had saved his life, though not before he was nearly broken in two. In his haze of near death, Gunther had dreamed of his mother. Not Tuesday mom who helped him with his homework, or Wednesday mom who made his lunches, but his real mother. He had visited her at the medicae hospital as much as possible while growing up. As a class four, she had to spend nearly all of her time at the hospital, eternally having tests done and ensuring that the next baby to come would be healthy and fit. She was allowed to be at home in the intervening times between pregnancies, and up until the second trimester, then she practically lived at the hospital. No matter how many other kids she had though, she always smiled to see him and called him her little Gunther. He had thought about her a lot while recovering and it had been then that he had decided that he wanted to see her again, even if him wanting to caused him to be reeducated.

It was funny that she called him small though, because Gunther was actually a larger than average young man, with wide shoulders, large hands, and large muscles developed from lugging around his Laute Dame all the time. The other companies always thought they were so hard up having to carry their 'heavy' weapons. Let them lug around a Laute Dame all day with a few thousand rounds of ammunition for it and see if they still thought that they had it so bad.

Training had been tough and Gunther was glad that he had been so involved with the boxing program at the education centre so that he had had a good base already for stamina and conditioning, otherwise he was afraid that the training might have been the death of him. It had been hard enough anyways as it was. It almost seemed that the Korps delighted in seeing if they could push you just a bit harder and see if you broke.

Gunther studied his reflection in the fountain, seeing a young man with light brown hair and dark blue eyes staring back at him. Although he was squinting. He really needed to get tinted shades or something to protect his eyes. They were killing him.

"Hello, I am Gregory, and this is Falco. Would you mind if we sat with you?"

Gunther looked back and saw two Pale young men wearing tinted ocular shades. Both were in Korps PT clothing and they looked quite similar, both having dark brown hair, both around the same height, but the one named Gregory noticeably more muscular than Falco who seemed to resemble his avian namesake a little. As well as both having a kitbag slung over a shoulder.

"Of course. Please, take a seat," said Gunther offering the pleasantries that they had rehearsed before being sent on leave.

"Thank you," said Gregory, talking a little louder than necessary.

"Are you from the 12th by chance?"

"Yes, I am from the machine gun company," answered Gunther politely.

"Oh, how fortunate. I am from the artillery detachment, and Falco here is from the marksman company," said Gregory loud enough that people three benches away could hear him clearly.

"It's nice to meet you," said Falco demurely.

"And you as well," said Gunther.

"Franz will be along shortly, he is getting what they call perogies."

"Are they any good?" asked Gunther.

"I don't know to tell the truth, I can't taste anything."

"Really?"

"Yes. When we were shelling Olympus, we came under counter battery fire and a piece of shrapnel went through the back of my helmet and into my brain. They removed it, but it damaged my sense of taste. So everything tastes the same now, which is an improvement so far as I'm concerned with the ration paste."

"Well I guess that is something good," said Gunther not really sure what to say, or keep talking about. It had been a long time since he had participated in small talk.

"Ah, here comes Franz now," said Gregory as an averaged size young man with close trimmed light blonde hair wearing a cap with a long brim in the front came over to them, eating food covered in butter that smelled delicious from a styrofoam bowl. He looked up briefly at them, then just as quickly his chocolate brown eyes dipped back down to his food.

"This is very good. You should try some Falco," said Franz taking another mouthful and chewing, adjusting the kitbag on his back.

"I don't think that the amount of butter in it is healthy," said Falco eyeing the food a little warily. "Is it nutritionally viable?"

"I don't know, but it tastes very good."

"Franz has been the Colonel's personal aide since he was shot in the chest and wounded in the underhive battle," explained Gregory. He seemed to like talking a lot.

"So, what reason did you apply for leave for?" asked Gregory again just a little too loudly.

"I just wanted to see the planet, I didn't really have to much of a plan. What about the rest of you?"

The other three Kriegers looked at each other and all seemed to be waiting for another to be the first to speak.

"Franz, what were those places called that Colonel Stanton kept bringing you to?" asked Gregory. Franz flushed a deep red in the face.

"W-well, he, um, called them gentleman's clubs, but, uh, h-he said it would be a good e-education for me," stumbled Franz, swallowing a little nervously when he finished.

"There were half-naked women there yes?"

"W-well, some were more than half," mumbled Franz turning a deeper shade of red. "I went to confessional about it afterwards, but the Colonel keeps taking me with him," said Franz forlornly. "Now he's trying to get me to smoke and drink with him."

"Oh good, I want to go to a gentleman's club then," declared Gregory cheerily. "Would the rest of you like to come? Then we could view the half-naked women together."

"No," said Franz quickly, beginning to notice some of the looks that other people sitting at other benches were beginning to give them.

"What about you Gunther? Falco?"

"I don't mind where I go," mumbled Falco.

"I think that I'll just stick with touring the city thank you."

"Okay, well it was nice meeting you anyways. Hopefully we will meet again before our leave is done. Shall we go Falco?"

"Okay."

Gunther watched the two other Kriegers depart and then looked back to Franz.

"So how bad is the brain damage?"

"From what I heard it's not debilitating, but it has affected his inhibitions causing him to say and do things that may not be socially acceptable and to act on impulse more often," answered Franz as if uncomfortable talking about someone behind their back. "Apparently he asked a medicae nurse if she found him attractive. When she said yes he asked her if she would ever consider having coitus with him," said Franz, lowering his voice when he said coitus as if he was saying something bad.

"Did she slap him?"

"No, she said yes."

"Huh. So where are you going?"

"I would like to do some shopping. I want to get a gift for someone, but I don't know what to get her. Women like jewelry yes?"

"I think so. Are you having relations with someone?"

"Well...no, but I still want to get her something. She is very pretty, and she is very nice too," said Franz, sounding a little embarrassed and his cheeks flushing a little.

"Hey there boys, staying out of trouble I hope?" Franz nearly jumped out of his clothes at the cheery voice of the junior commissar, turning around and snapping to attention on instinct, while Gunther was on his feet in an instant at parade ground attention.

"Ma'am," answered both Kriegers at the same time.

"Relax guys, we're all on leave. I just came over to see how you guys are doing, not bark at you," said Amy with a smile. She was out of her commissariat uniform, wearing a long blue skirt with a white long sleeved shirt and a little beige vest. Her hair was not done up in a bun or a ponytail, but instead was loose around her shoulders and instead of combat boots she had little black dress shoes that didn't even cover the tops of her feet. She also wasn't alone.

The large catchatan Daniels was standing beside her, practically a mountain of muscle in plain clothes, and throne was he tall. His white t-shirt looking like it was threatening to rip from the strain and his ever present bandana still tied fiercely around his forehead, his burly arms crossed in front of him dwarfing both Amy and the two Kriegers. Next to him and looking impatient was a young girl with brown hair and eyes in a purple skirt that she seemed incredibly annoyed at and kept picking at it rhythmically. As if wishing that she could just make it go away by sheer force of will.

"So what do you guys think of your leave so far? Nice hat Franz."

"Thank you and very good ma'am," said Franz immediately and energetically. He sounded upbeat and excited when he talked to her.

"I like the enthusiasm," said Amy with a short giggle. "But I thought I told you to relax?"

"Yes ma'am."

"You don't have to keep standing at attention you know. I don't bite. Much."

"You would bite us?" asked Gunther a little surprised.

"Wha-no, it's just an expression," said Amy.

"Oh, so when the Colonel told me that nothing's illegal until I get caught that was just an expression as well?" asked Franz suddenly, seeming like he was just waiting for a chance to become involved in the conversation.

"No, that's just bad advice," said Amy with a half-smile. "Don't listen to the Colonel when he tells you stuff like that."

"But he's my superior officer," said Franz slowly and sounding very confused.

"Yeah, but when it comes to stuff like that don't listen to him. You're too good of a boy to do _half _of what he tells you to." Franz had a look on his face like someone had just told him that the sky was purple.

"But, I don't want to disobey an order ma'am," said Franz now sounding uncomfortable.

"Okay, well, if you ever get told to do something you don't like by the Colonel that goes outside of your normal duties just come and see me day or night okay? Or any other problems you might be having, I'm a good listener."

"Any time?"

"Of course."

"Thank you ma'am," said Franz sounding truly happy.

"What is that you're eating? It smells good," said Amy looking at Franz's food hungrily.

"It's called perogies."

"Mind if I try a bite?"

"Oh, ah, of course," said Franz practically thrusting the bowl into Amy's face.

"Oh," said Amy taking a half-step back in surprise. "Well, I'll just try a little bit," said Amy taking and chewing one of the buttery perogies experimentally.

"Mmm, these are pretty good, thank you Franz," said Amy slightly muffled.

"Can we go now?" came the whining voice of the young Athenian. "I'm bored."

"Yes, we can go in a minute," promised Amy. Penelope huffed in annoyance and received a glare from Daniels.

"Well I just thought I'd stop and say hi to you guys. Stay out of trouble and have a good time. I want to hear all about what you guys do 'kay?"

"Of course ma'am, I will include a detailed report when I return from leave," promised Franz. Amy actually laughed.

"Just tell me if you had a good time. You don't need to give me a report. See you later boys," said Amy waving as she walked away with Daniels and Penelope.

"She is very nice, would you not agree?" asked Franz to Gunther.

"She seems different than many other commissars, though I hope she does not get into trouble for her familiarity."

"Oh, I am sure that it is fine. I can not imagine Commissar Walker getting in trouble for anything."

"I suppose so," said Gunther. "Would you like to get going now?"

"Yes. Would you like to go to the shopping district? I think I know what I should get."

It was fairly easy for the two Kriegers to find their way out of the spaceport and to the shopping district. Harder when the realized that they went to the more 'local' district that served in almost entirely the native language of Bergrundy.

The shopping district had the smell of frying grease and meat from the food stands, that lingered in the air so much that after a few moments you wouldn't even notice it. It seemed like more of an informal market where instead of each vendor having their own building or shop, it was in the middle of a large square of hive towers in a sort of flea market. It seemed a place where the office workers from the nearby towers and hab inhabitants would come for just about anything they wanted to get cheaply and quickly, not concerned too terribly much as to where the items had all come from.

Now most Imperial worlds speak low gothic as the norm, or at the very least as a second language, but much of the time a home-brewed language will begin to dominate the spoken word and such a thing is allowed to occur so long as a certain percentage of the population can still speak either low or high gothic. Krieg is no exception to this rule and every person born on that irradiated world is forced by law to learn low Gothic to an acceptable level of proficiency. Unfortunately this is not the case on Burgrundy.

"Yes, I would like to purchase that set of earrings please," said Franz pointing.

"Vy khotite lozhku?" asked the shopkeeper pointing. (You want the spoon?)

"No, no, the earrings please sir. To the left."

"Medal'on?" (The locket?)

"No," said Franz shaking his head when the shopkeeper pointed to a battered looking locket. "I want the-oh, sir, could you help me for a moment please?" asked Franz to a passing man, taking a few steps away from the booth.

"Excuse me sir, could I ask you a question?"

"Sure, what do ya need friend?" asked the man in a somewhat of a drawl. He was tallish with a bit of a tan and long black hair that he had tied back in a ponytail behind his head at the moment.

"I am trying to purchase a set of earrings from this man, but we can't understand each other."

"Sure I could help you out. Just say lizat' moyu zadnitsu pozhaluysta to him. Then say YA budu platit' khoroshive den'gi. That'll clear everything up for you."

"Thank you for your help sir, my name is Franz from the 12th Heavy Siege Regiment," said Franz scribbling down the phrase and then holding out his hand like he'd been taught in public relations.

"James Gunn. Pleasure to make you acquaintance," said James Shaking Franz's hand. "Well I best be goin now, you take care, hear?"

"Of course sir, same to you, again thank you." Franz then hurried back to the shopkeeper who seemed less than pleased to try and communicate with gestures again.

"Lizat' moyu zadnitsu pozhaluysta. YA budu platit' khoroshive den'gi," said Franz with a smile. (Please lick my butt, I will pay good money.) That smile soon went away with the angry cursing that yelling that the shopkeeper suddenly directed at him. He was a shorter man and pudgy, but as soon as Franz finished telling him he wanted his face had gone beet red and he came out from behind his counter and advanced on Franz.

"I'm sorry sir, please, I just wish to purchase the earrings," said Franz confused and backing away, but finding that the world around him was draining away as he was confronted with aggression and his ingrained training started taking over so that there was only him and the shopkeeper.

A less talked about reason as to why the Korps doesn't like letting their property go on leave is that they have trained their Korpsmen in a way that is both very efficient, and very dangerous. The Korps doesn't have the luxury or training their soldiers for long periods of time and can't match the simple experience gap that a decade can make between the average age of their regiments and that of other worlds so they make up for it in a different way. They train them with technique and physical endurance like any other world, but they differ in on crucial way. They break them.

Not in the way a child breaks a toy, or in the way that a man's mind just one day snaps. No, it's more subtle than that.

In every person, in every healthy human being there is a part of them, a voice, call it a conscience, morality, your guardian angel, whatever name you prefer, there is a voice that tells you not to hurt someone. That makes you hesitate for those critical few seconds in a fight, or when you are about to cause someone grievous pain. The Korps takes that voice, and snuffs it out, training their soldiers to respond with the utmost violence when presented with aggression, and when threatened, strike. No pulled punches, no hesitation, and no remorse. Even the kindest seeming Korpsman is a cold killer when pressed.

Franz looked down at the shopkeeper cradling his face, with blood leaking from inbetween his fingers. Franz was still in a fighting stance with his hands up, his knuckles bloody.

"Sir, I apologize, but you were acting aggressively towards me," said Franz slowly lowering his hands when he was sure that the shopkeeper wasn't a threat anymore. The shopkeeper whimpered lowly.

"Franz what happened?" asked Gunther walking up holding some pastry-looking thing that had several bites taken out of it.

"This man was acting like he was going to attack me," answered Franz.

"Franz you shouldn't have done that," chastised Gunther, looking at the other shoppers and shopkeepers all staring at them.

"But he was acting aggressively towards me and yelling," defended Franz. "In training they told us to respond like this. To neutralize the threat."

"This isn't a battlefield dummkopf, you just committed a crime." (idiot)

"A crime?! But...I...he-I didn't mean to break the law," stammered Franz seeming horrified, the blood draining from his face and making him seem all the paler because of it.

"Yes well now it would seem that you did," said Gunther sounding frustrated.

"But I didn't mean to," protested Franz again.

"I know. Maybe they'll understand. I'm sure that the law enforcement on this planet are reasonable."

"So do we just wait for them or do we seek out the law enforcement?"

"Hands in the Air!"

"Pardon?" asked Franz a moment before two prongs shot into his chest and electrocuted him, sending him twitching to the ground.

"STOP RESISTING!"

"I'm not resisting," said Gunther loudly and clearly sinking to his knees with his hands above his head.

"HE'S TRYING TO GET AWAY!"

"No, I'm n-," Gunther was cut short when two prongs entered his chest delivering thousands of volts of electricity into his chest and causing him to fall over and twitch.

"STOP RESISTING!" shouted a militia member kneeling on Gunther and hitting him with a baton as he laid there still twitching from the electricity. It seemed that the militia of Bergrundy were not reasonable after all.

"I'm not," was all Gunther managed to get out.

Xxx

Erich walked briskly down the skyway bridge in his new suit. After his old one had been dirtied on the ride down, he had decided to get a new one that fit better anyways before he made his appearance at Regenerative Innovations, the company owned by his family. He had just picked it up in the airport and had it rush altered for him. The clerk had just smiled and said it'd take at least two days to get to and finish the alterations. It had taken a half hour when Erich had pulled out his credit chit.

It wasn't like some of the other Imperial regalia that Erich had seen before. His suit was rather plain in his opinion. A simple tuxedo with a handkerchief in his pocket with a dress shirt, pants, and tie. No awards, no raised collar, no mantle, no fur coat, just plain and functional formal wear. Still cost him enough though. That and he'd purchased special UV filtering contacts so that he didn't need to constantly wear ocular shades or a had to protect his eyes. They had a little bit of everything at a spaceport it seemed, though all at terribly inflated prices.

Erich checked his silver pocket watch that he had kept from Krieg. It still had the correct time and was ticking just as good as when he had left Krieg. A testament to the craftsmanship and quality of the piece. Well, the correct time for Krieg anyway, he'd had to adjust it and now it was ticking away happily on Bergrundy time. Erich closed it with a flick of his thumb and put it away.

A small boy, barely standing over five feet bumped into Erich rather rudely and kept walking, not even bothering to mutter an apology. Erich glared back at the retreating figure of the small boy mentally chastising the parents for raising such a rude child. Erich put his hands in the pockets of his suit jacket as he put his head down against the chill breeze of an early spring that still had the trappings of winter in it. His pockets were empty. That little brat, thought Erich as a jolt went through him as he realized that he'd been robbed.

"Hey!" shouted back Erich at the diminutive form of the pickpocket. He started to run.

Erich turned around and chased after the thief, quickly closing the gap between them. Green eyes peered up from below a black toque for a split second, before the thief grabbed the railing, flipped himself over and dropped over the edge.

Erich ran and looked over the side, and saw the thief sliding down one of the struts, before letting go and landing on the bridge below them with a roll, then continue running. Moving quickly and fluidly like he was some kind of simian or the hive was his own personal playground. Erich made a quick mental note of where the thief was running and took off running towards a staircase that allowed someone to move between the different levels of the hives.

Some of the hive towers were connected by only a single bridge. Others were connected by one at every floor and crisscrossed like veins in a body, while others still were connected by entire floors like a giant plaza or courtyard. Creating even more space in the form of parks, restaurants, strip malls, and really anything that a city planner or architect wanted. In fact, some towers had such extensive connections to others as to allow for roadways, alleys, and make it seem like it was the ground level of any city. This tower had multiple bridges and plazas, though nothing so large or elaborate as a roadway system.

Erich practically jumped down each flight of stairs causing the other people using them to push themselves far back against the railings to avoid his plummeting form, shrieks and shouted curses chased after him as he barrelled down the stairs.

Once he reached the same level as the thief, his head whipped first one way, then the other. There! A short boy with a black toque and a striped zippered sweater disappeared around a corner of a hive floor. Sprinting after him, Erich rounded the same corner just in time to see the boy run up on top of a bench, jump, grab a ledge above himself, and pull himself onto the roof of a low shop. The shop was set in a continuous row of buildings that were wedged together so tightly so that they may as well have been one continuous building. It was like someone had built the first layer of structures, then added on to it, trying to cram as much as possible into a small a space as possible, making any geometry or plan unrecognizable; allowing alleys, buildings, and anything else really at odd places almost making it seem like a child had put it together. And now this small thief was using it like it was his own personal playground. Who was this guy?

Erich ran, jumped up and managed to grip the edge of the buildings roof. Imagining it was just like in training when they had had to climb walls on the obstacle course, Erich pulled himself up quickly, grabbed the railing above him and pulled himself on top of the roof.

Erich locked eyes with the diminutive thief whom seemed startled that Erich was still chasing him, not to mention keeping up with him, no doubt thinking him an easy mark because of his suit. Apparently the scar on his face made him seem friendly and approachable. Knife scars just scream nice guy.

The thief hopped over a railing and dropped to an alley below them and as Erich got to the railing, saw the thief drop over another railing, dropping to an even lower hive floor. Erich could have reasonably given up, after all it could be dangerous to chase the thief, especially considering the the acrobatics he'd have to perform to continue the chase. But the thief hadn't just taken his credit chit and watch. He'd taken his wallet which held his return ticket and identification card. Without those he couldn't buy food, prove who he was, or get back to his regiment without having to admit the embarrassing truth. The truth that he, a von Shreider, a Death Korps soldier and decorated war veteran from a family line stretching back over ten thousand years had been caught off guard and robbed by a street urchin who probably didn't know the difference between a sabre and a rapier. A street urchin whom had managed to evade him despite all of his training and intellect. The coldly analytical part of him advised him to inform the militia that he'd been robbed and give them a description of the robber. The warrior in him demanded that he avenge his honour and get back his possessions himself. The warrior won.

Erich jumped down off of the ledge, landing in a parachutists roll, standing up and going over the next railing, lowering himself down to a dumpster below, then chasing after the little thief.

Erich was continuously annoyed and at the same time impressed by both the speed and agility of the boy whom had robbed him. He moved like an acrobat, flipping, rolling, and jumping around the alleys and buildings as if he'd been born doing it. There was a fluidity to his movements that Erich had to give grudging respect towards, and remind himself that he'd been told not to start violence unless he was attacked first and not to use physical force unless necessary. It would however, be necessary to get his possessions back. If he could ever catch the little snake.

Erich had fallen behind the thief, gaining ground on the open stretches, but falling behind whenever they had to climb or jump down to a lower hive level. The pickpocket had realized this and stuck to fire escapes, ledges, and any other places that required climbing. The thief was tiring though, Erich wasn't.

Erich came to an intersection of alleyways and stopped. He listened. He heard something metal and hollow fall to the ground distantly like a pipe. Instead of running, Erich moved as quickly as he could while being quiet.

The thief already had a significant lead and if he thought that he'd lost Erich, might slow down long enough for Erich to catch him.

Erich moved quietly from shadow to shadow, the gloom in the alleys providing excellent concealment for him, reminding him of the frantic street fighting he'd gone through on several hives on Athena II. Immediately Erich felt himself switch into combat mode, feeling his senses heighten to almost unnatural clarity and bring with it the anticipation of a fight and the cool detachment that had been trained into him.

He followed the little signs that showed the passage of a person. Tracked him like a hunter tracks an animal. It took a while, but Erich finally caught up to the thief, having been careful to stay out of sight and silent.

He found the thief leaning against a dumpster and panting, continuously looking at the alley entrances for any signs of Erich. After a while he seemed to relax, wiped a little bit of sweat from his forehead and started walking away. Erich was just ten steps from him now.

Clink.

Erich mentally cursed himself as his foot caught a bottle and the thief's head whipped back, seeing Erich in the shadows and made a dash for a fire escape. If he made it the chase would start all over again. Erich took off like a sprinter and caught up to the pickpocket just as he jumped and started hauling himself up onto the fire escape. Erich caught his ankle and threw him to the ground, ripping him off the side of the structure.

The thief had barely hit the ground when Erich had him pinned beneath him and had his fist drawn back ready to bring it down. Just before his fist struck, the pickpocket let out a high and feminine shriek. Erich stopped his fist barely a centimetre from the cringing thief and studied the figure beneath him.

The toque had fallen off, revealing bright red hair that went into a medium length tight braid and as Erich studied the face he realized that it was indeed a girl. Though you wouldn't be able to tell from looking at the chest, it was as flat as a board, though the general body shape was that of a girl.

"Get off of me you prick!" The pickpocket squirmed beneath Erich, but Erich held her in place.

"You are going to return what you stole from me."

"I didn't take anything from you, you freaking psychopath. Now get off of me!"

"You took my pocket watch and my credit chit along with my wallet," said Erich.

"The frak I did, you just started chasing me."

"You started running."

"Hmm, I wonder why? Oh yeah, because the big frakking asshole with a scar on his face the size of a frakking dozer was coming after me. Should I have just bent over and invited you in? Please sir, can I have another?"

"You're very crude."

"And you're the psycho who chased me down through half the fracking hive and tackled me, then acted like you were going to murder and rape me. Now you mind getting the frack off of me, around here this is considered sexual assault you prick."

"You bumped into me on the bridge and did not so much as mutter an apology. Then when I put my hands in my pockets my possessions were gone. I confronted you about it and you ran. Now I'm not going to ask again, give me back what you stole from me."

"Oh wow, so I bumped into you. I guess not paying attention to where you're going is a crime. And being rude is murder, so I guess that you're entitled to chase me down and kick my ass. Do you listen to yourself? Do you like chasing down girls and feeling them up? You get off on it or something? Have a thing for schoolgirls? Now get the frak off of me and-hey!" cried out the girl angrily as Erich started going through her pockets.

"Get away you freak!" said the girl pushing at Erich. Erich grabbed both of her wrists in one hand one continued searching easily holding her hands in place despite her thrashing and resistance. Erich pulled out his watch, credit chit, and wallet from the girl's zip up sweater.

"You said you didn't take these?" asked Erich rhetorically, dangling the watch by the chain in front of her by the chain like a hypnotist.

"No, I didn't."

"Then why were they in your pockets?"

"I don't know, I didn't take you shit, now get off."

"You're lying."

"Frak you, no I'm not. I didn't take your shit. Now stop accusing me and get the frak off of me you freaking rapist."

"I am going to turn you in to the authorities for attempted theft. I am going to impose a citizens arrest on you on my belief that you attempted to rob me. I will only use the force necessary to get you to comply and I will not infringe on your rights as an Imperial Citizen. I am not a law enforcement officer and as such cannot detain you for any period of time longer than it takes to the proper authorities to take custody of you. Do you understand why I am putting you under citizens arrest?"

"Frak you! Hey, let go, ah! That hurts you asshole!" protested the girl as Erich put her into an armbar and forced her to walk ahead of him. It took awhile to find his way back to a main thoroughfare, but Erich eventually found his way back to a busy street.

"Look, I'm not gonna run away and you're hurting my arm. I'm really sorry that we had this misunderstanding. I didn't mean to cause you any trouble. Can you let go of me please?" The girl had done a complete 180 from when Erich had first met her. She had been polite, provided directions, and apologized several times for taking his possessions. She just had the face and tone of voice of someone who was for lack of a better word innocent and she was rather cute. But Erich didn't really trust her. They were almost out of the alleys and back to the street and didn't want her to make a break for it before the local authorities had her in custody.

"No."

"Frakking faggot," cursed the girl, dropping her act.

"Thief."

"Asshole," shot back the girl and tried to stomp on Erich's foot. Erich just tightened the armbar and made her stop with a gasp.

"You're breaking my frakking arm," whined the girl.

"Then stop resisting."

"It really hurts you prick, stop it. I'm not gonna run, what the frak is wrong with you? I'm serious, you're really hurting me." As they left the alley and entered the street, it was like another change had come over the girl, like she was trying to put on her act again, or at least it seemed like she was going to. For all the good it would do her. "Help! Somebody help me!" the girl suddenly shouted.

"Stop yelling," said Erich gruffly.

"This guy's trying to kidnap me! Help! Somebody help!"

People were turning and looking at Erich now, and he realized how bad this looked. He was holding onto a small woman in what seemed like an aggressive manner and was causing her discomfort and possibly pain. They didn't know why he was holding onto her and with his size and appearance it would look extremely bad on his part.

"HELP! PLEASE, GET HIM OFF OF ME!" shrieked the girl, pushing into the armbar a little more to induce pain and then actually started crying.

"Hey, let her go and let me see your hands," commanded a heavyset militia officer in a greatcoat and furred hat.

"She robbed me, I only had her under citizens arrest," protested Erich letting go of the little redhead, who promptly made a show of holding her arm and letting more tears fall free.

"He asked me for directions for how to get to Vykup Square, I thought that I was being nice. He asked me to show him how to get there and then pulled me into the alley and told me that if I screamed he'd kill me," sobbed the girl.

"She's lying," said Erich becoming increasingly outraged. "She robbed me and I chased her to recover my possessions and now she's making a scene to try and turn the blame upon me and get out of her misdeeds." Erich looked down at the little redheaded thief and realized that he was screwed. She was nearly a foot and a half smaller than him and was the very picture of innocence. Anyone would take her word over his in a heartbeat.

"I'm hearing two different stories from two different people," said the militia officer. "Now if either of you want to press charges I'll take you both down to the station, but sir, I didn't see her take your possessions. I did however see you holding onto her and forcing her to walk ahead of you. Do you see the predicament I'm in?"

"Yes sir, I do and I understand how this may look, but I can assure you that I was merely trying to follow the law."

"Are you from offworld?"

"Yes sir, I am a member of the Imperial Guard."

"Okay, here's the problem then. You can't do that to someone on Bergrundy. You can't do a citizens arrest and you're not allowed to hold someone against their will. That's assault and illegal confinement. Okay?"

"Yes sir, I am sorry that I misunderstood the laws on this planet and I regret that I may have overstepped my bounds, but I only wished to retrieve what she stole."

"Alright. Do you want to press charges?" asked the militia officer to the little redhead.

"No, I just want him to go away and I want to go home," sniffed the girl.

"Alright. Now, if you want to press charges, I'll have to call your regiment and get your commissar to come down here and sort things out. I'm not allowed to arrest you, but I can detain you until they come to pick you up. Do you want to do that?"

Images of scrubbing toilets and polishing boots for countless hours manifested themselves in Erich's mind along with the knowledge that he'd never be allowed on leave again if on his first day he got in trouble with the law. Swallowing the bitter lump in his throat and sighed somewhat wearily. He didn't want this girl to get away with her crime, but there was nothing that he could really do about it either.

"No sir, I do not wish to press charges. I recovered the stolen items and will be on my way then if it is alright."

"It is," said the militia officer and Erich strode away quickly, moving his wallet and other items to the inside, zippered pocket of his suit jacket. The militia officer watched him go then turned back to the girl.

"I can't keep covering for you Anastasia, you can't keep doing stuff like this."

"I didn't _do _anything, the guy was a psycho," said Anastasia stopping the flow of tears like she had just turned off a faucet.

"Anastasia, I know you stole from him, this is the third time this month that I've caught you stealing. Why are you doing this? Your family is upper middle hive. You're a good enough cook that your dad lets you work at his restaurant, and I know that you aren't a bad kid, so why are you doing this?"

"I didn't take anything from him Vadim," defended Anastasia hotly. The heavyset militia officer sighed.

"Look, I just don't want to break the news to your father that I had to arrest my friend's kid because she's been stealing. You know that would upset your dad."

"Screw him."

"What about your grandparents? What if they found out? You know it'd break their hearts if they found out."

"Don't tell them! I don't care if my dad finds out, but don't tell them okay? I, I don't want them to find out."

"Then stop stealing."

Anastasia grumbled something unintelligible and then sighed.

"Fine. Do you want to come by the restaurant tonight? I'll make you something myself to say I'm sorry."

"Hah! I couldn't afford to eat there on a months salary.

"Frak it, I'll just bill it to the house," said Anastasia with a shrug.

"Your dad probably won't like that."

"Yeah, well I don't like how he has me work and pays me below minimum wage because I haven't officially gotten any training. Not like cooking is hard. Not to mention the fact that he's the one who taught me, so I figure that I can hand out a few free meals now and then. Honestly if he fires me I don't give a shit."

"You shouldn't curse so much you know. It isn't good."

"Yeah, but so is being overweight. Doesn't mean that I'm gonna stop trying to make you get rounder."

"I think if I lost weight you'd take it as an insult."

"Damned right I would. So, I'll see you tonight at the restaurant?"

"Yes, I'll be there. Please stay out of trouble Anastasia."

"Just for today because you asked nicely. Bye Vadim, see you later," said Anastasia cheerily with a wave and just as quickly was gone.

Vadim shook his large head slowly. She really was a good kid, but she just had a habit of getting herself into trouble. She wasn't a mean one, sure she spoke without thinking and Emperor knows she'd gotten into more trouble than half the kids in Kisograd because of it, but she didn't actually want to hurt people. She just didn't think things through before she did them.

Also Vadim was fairly certain that she was a minor kleptomaniac. Vadim scratched his wrist where his chronometer had been. Or else she was just going through one annoying phase. He'd get his chronometer back at supper. No doubt she'd say that she'd just picked it up off the street for him. Still, he hoped that she didn't steal from the wrong person someday. There were a lot of people who'd be a lot less forgiving than the young soldier that she'd stolen from.

Xxx

"I'm sorry that I got us arrested Gunther," said Franz finally after a long ride in the back of the patrol car. "But at least we got to see a lot of the hive this way," said Franz, attempting a weak smile. Gunther just stared straight ahead.

"I was shot with a stun gun, beaten repeatedly with batons, handcuffed, and am now going to have a criminal record and be punished by the commissariat, because you hit a shopkeeper. But yes, at least I got to see some of the city from the back of a militia car while handcuffed," finished Gunther angrily.

"Sorry," said Franz quietly and went back to looking out his window. "Where are we anyway, this doesn't look like the militia precinct district."

"I don't know Franz, I just got here, went to a market that you wanted to go to, started eating a desert, then got beaten and arrested. You tell me." Franz became quiet again and didn't say anything again until they stopped.

"Where are we?"

"Just shut up," said Gunther.

The militia officers got out of the ground car, came back and opened their doors, then commanded them to step out.

It was a very large building, but nowhere near a hive tower. It had a wide entrance with multiple doors set atop an impressively tall staircase. It had to be at least fifteen storeys tall and a block wide by a block deep. It had a flat roof and there were rows of windows set into the brick work, though the bricks were most likely for show, the building constructed of permacrete and steel probably. There were teenagers in school uniforms coming and going, some sitting on the grass by a few trees here and there, others playing scrumball, or some just sitting on the steps.

"Where are we?" asked Gunther to one of the militia officers.

"We're returning you to Kisograd Central High #53. Now put your uniforms on and get back to class," said the militia officer pulling similar uniforms out of the patrol cars trunk that the teenagers were wearing.

"But we don't attend this school. We're from the Imperial Guard, the Death Korps of Krieg," said Franz. "We finished our schooling three years ago. We have the equivalent of your high school's education."

"Right, I believe that as much as I believe a tic can make an honest living. Now either put those clothes on, or I take you down to the station and process you for assault and battery. Your choice."

"Do you have a size 34 waist?" asked Franz.

"Well this turned out better than expected," said Franz as they walked down the hallway, passing by the other students, some staring at Gunther and his bruised face.

"Franz."

"Yes?"

"Please shut up."

"Oh, sorry," said Franz apologetically. "Where do we go?"

"I don't know, we're not enrolled. I think that those officers dropped us off here to get the commission for doing it."

"Commission?"

"I saw a story at the spaceport that said there was a problem of students skipping class and it had gotten bad enough that the local militia has started rounding them up, and they get a small commission for every one that they bring in."

"But that's, that's being corrupt," said Franz sounding mortified.

"Yes, and now we're in a school because of it."

"Do we just pick a class and go into it? Oh it seems that the girl over there is having problems with her skirt and the boy is helping her, what a gentlemanly thing to-oh, oh my," said Franz flushing deep scarlet and looking away.

"Just come in here," said Gunther grabbing Franz and hauling him into a classroom where students were just talking and sitting on top of the desks. A couple turned to look at them, but nobody really paid them any real attention until Franz decided to try to introduce himself to a couple, much to Gunther's irritation.

"Hello, my name is Franz, it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance," said Franz holding out his hand to a boy with an open school jacket and spiked green hair.

"The frak do you want?" demanded the student with the spiked hair.

"I was just introducing myself to you, seeing as we're going to be classmates I thought that I would build camaraderie between us and work better together as a result." Spiked hair laughed at Franz.

"You slow or something? Frak off faggot," said the student, spitting in Franz's hand.

"Oh," said Franz, taking out the kerchief that was part of his uniform and using it to wipe off his hand. "That was not very nice, I would like an apology please."

"You want an apology?" asked the spiked haired kid, standing up and standing almost nose to nose with Franz.

"Sir, you're standing closer than I find comfortable, could you please step back?"

"You want an apology? Is that what you want?"

"Well, that and for you to step back, yes please."

"Well I like standing here, what are you going to do about it you little blonde faggot?" Franz took a step back and the boy with the spiked hair took another step forwards, all the while staring him in the eyes.

"Sir, you are invading my personal space."

"What are you gonna do about it huh."

"Pardon?"

"What are you gonna do? You gonna make me pretty boy? You gonna be a frakking retard and keep saying please all the time you little faggot?" asked the boy pushing Franz.

"Sir, I don't like you touching me. Please stop." If the boy had not been so preoccupied with trying to prove his alpha male status to the rest of his class he would have noticed that Franz was not the least bit intimidated and his hesitation was merely him remembering what he'd been told to do and say by the public relations officer while on leave. Gunther saw it though, and he started towards Franz, trying to stop another incident.

"What are you gonna do? What are you gonna go huh? Wanna go? Wanna fight me? Huh? I'm ready to go, come on, wooh"-_crack._

The green haired student hit the desk behind him as he fell back, causing it to screech on the floor and move out of the way as he hit the ground unconscious. Franz had hit him with a solid right hook and was standing over him to make sure he was down.

"Franz, stop punching people," said Gunther, trying very hard to keep from losing his temper on the other Krieger.

"But he-"

"Stop. Punching. People. Franz," emphasized Gunther.

"Sorry," said Franz again.

"Hello class, take out your textbooks and turn to-oh Emperor what happened to Alexi?" asked a young teacher nearly dropping her stack of papers.

Gunther looked at the unconscious student then back to the teacher.

"He slipped."

AN: Well I hope I didn't make too many people mad with this chapter, I thought it'd be funny to see how the other Kriegers would get along while on leave on another world and am hoping I didn't turn this into too much of a fanfic. (no pun intended.) Some of the Kriegers act a little odd when talking to people, and I did this on purpose, because I think that the Korpsmen are a little socially stunted because of their training and indoctrination as well as the ones that went down for leave are the ones that Jaeger wants to reeducate.

I kind of liked writing Franz, he's like the really nice religious guy you know who almost seems to innocent to be real, but punches people. As for Anastasia, she'll be important and feedback will be appreciated, because I want to make her crass, not annoying so please review and give me suggestions on what you think and what you want to see. You'll get plenty of zombies later, but I want to do a bit without them first to do some world building, but I will alter some of my plans if you guys think I should.


End file.
